Sukuna, the proud big brother

I hated so-called proper opinions. But the world I lived in was full of image-conscious people obsessed with what you "should" do.

You should study, you should work hard, you should smile, you should be a "good child."

They slapped those labels on everything, laying a transparent rulebook over each person's life.

Living by it... well, that was one option. A life bound by other people's values was easy. Whether you succeeded or failed, you could blame the people who forced those values on you. You just had to keep wearing your "public mask."

There were also rebels who refused to follow proper opinions. No? Maybe individualists was the better word.

Those people were extreme. "Walk your own path"? "Your own justice"? "Your own values"?

They put themselves first in everything. They were right. Then they rejected everyone else.

In the end, they merely forced their own absolute monarchy on the world, unconsciously creating a private rulebook just for themselves. Naturally, that rulebook was extremely lenient toward its owner. Still, they probably enjoyed life. Nothing was happier or more liberating than having no restraints.

...So which was better?

I told you, didn't I? I hated proper opinions. Neither side was good or bad.

I thought it was easiest not to judge anything. Once you assigned value to things, you chose something and discarded something else. So I chose nothing. I only had to watch.

That way, I could go on living without cherishing anything-myself or others, success or failure, effort or responsibility. I wouldn't have to taste the fear of loss, the pain of giving something up, or the emptiness of watching it slip through my fingers.

Was it a dream? A memory? Watching figures blacked out with a marker, I sighed.

"I'm so tired."

"Hey, hey, don't say that when you've only just enrolled. You'll make your teacher cry."

At the voice above my head, I raised my face and saw the chin of Gojo-sensei, whose white hair and blindfold were standard equipment. My gaze wandered along the smooth line from his neck to his Adam's apple, then to the tip of his chin... and I felt sleepy again.

"Mm..."

"Ah, no sleeping. Actually, isn't it time you woke up? Hey, we're almost at the classroom."

Just when that lovely drowsiness was about to settle in, what was this teacher doing...?

The double assault of loud shouting and bouncing chased my approaching sleepiness away in an instant. I'd already told him not to bounce me when he carried me. I tapped his arm as usual, but Gojo-sensei wouldn't stop.

"Urgh, hey, didn't I tap you...? I told you not to bounce me."

When I protested, he finally stopped.

"Ah, sorry." Hearing his apology, I let my head droop limply in the crook of his arm.

How strange. Tapping his arm was always supposed to be the signal to give up.

"If you're sorry, let me sleep like this."

"Can't do that."

Then he told me we were going to the classroom, where my new classmates were waiting. I doubted that religious-school students could get along with a nonbeliever like me, but either way, all I would do was sleep.

Just like at my old school, I'd spend all my time sleeping, and surely nobody would wake me up. My job would be to laze around asleep behind the classmate in front of me. As though responding to that thought, the teacher peered into my face.

"There are only three first-years, including you. Don't think you'll get away with sleeping."

What the hell? What an empty classroom. He said he'd brought me to Tokyo, but had I ended up that far out in the sticks? Or was this religion seriously bad news...?

Anyway, as long as my comfortable, lazy life was guaranteed, anything was fine.

I gave up resisting and went limp, like a quilt draped over the reassuring support of his arm. The corners of his mouth lifted.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll make friends, Haruka."

I'm really not cut out for that.

I sighed softly at the teacher as he kicked the classroom door open.

Rattle, bang!

The door flew open with astonishing force. He was holding me with one arm, so surely he could have opened it normally with his free hand. My homeroom teacher's list of quirks was already supersized. Was he planning to add more? See, something like "the type who wants to make a cool entrance."

Beyond the door that had opened with that tremendous noise, a boy and a girl raised their heads from their desks.

"I-Itadori...?"

"...Yeah."

I was definitely Itadori. But why did these two know me?

I slowly lifted just my face from the teacher's arms, and they stared at me in shock. Then their gazes gradually seemed to turn hostile, shifting far above my head... toward the teacher.

And the man receiving those looks said to me:

"Haruka, you can sleep for an hour or so."

Whose mouth had been insisting I couldn't sleep a moment ago? Anger bubbled up inside me, but letting it loose felt tiring. Or rather, I couldn't be bothered.

"There, there. Time for good children to take a nap."

As he spoke, he covered my eyes with his hand, drawing back the drowsiness from earlier. I sank into the swamp of sleep.

At the edge of my dream, there it was again. That blacked-out figure reached toward me, but faced with a hand I'd never seen, an unfamiliar scent, a form that didn't exist in my memories... my cowardly hand pulled back.

Creak... I felt a strong hand grip mine tightly.

That sensation of being firmly pulled back brought my consciousness to the surface, and I saw a black-haired boy with upturned eyes looking at me. This was reality. He gazed down at me as though looking at something he missed.

I'm sure I've seen him somewhere... This is bad. Has even my memory gotten lazy? I can't remember a thing.

Thinking that with my brain still half asleep, I slowly pushed myself upright.

He slipped a hand behind my back and helped me up as though supporting a piece of glasswork. Thanks to him, I put less strain on my still-aching ribs.

"Hey, Fushiguro, why are you being so gentle with him? You're supposed to do that for me, the one who's always a lady!"

The speaker was a brown-haired girl. She glared fiercely at the boy and me.

The boy called Fushiguro sighed quietly and shielded me behind him.

"No, Gojo-sensei broke his ribs with a kick when they first met. I'm worried about his injuries..."

"Ugh, this teacher really is hopeless. So he's the violent type?"

The person he was protecting me from was actually Gojo-sensei. "Huh?" The teacher looked blank, while the two students stared at him with dead-fish eyes.

"Hey, Megumi? Don't make it sound so awful."

He tried to approach me as he spoke, but the two hissed at him like cats. The girl even took out a five-inch nail. What was she planning to do with that?

"Please stay away from Itadori." "Don't come near Itadori, you violent teacher."

When the boy took a fighting stance, fully ready for battle, the teacher must have realized he was in trouble.

"Haruka, help me explain! It's a misunderstanding!"

He tossed the conversation my way. But I didn't care about any of that.

"Haaah..." I let out a yawn and settled in for another nap. Just before I fell asleep, I heard, "Divine Dogs."

Something warm and fluffy slipped between me and the floor, becoming my cushion.

I rubbed my face against it, my expression relaxing.

"He's using his classmate as a cushion!"

I decided to pretend I hadn't heard Gojo-sensei's anguished cry.

Fushiguro's perspective

I remembered the boy Gojo-sensei had brought in.

His name was Itadori... no, he was the younger brother who had been there on the day I first met Yuji Itadori. He was shorter than Yuji, and much more slightly built, but his face and expression were exactly the same.

His younger brother's default sleepy expression was identical to the one Yuji had worn when I'd seen him in the morning.

Unable to suppress the feelings welling up in my chest, I looked away from him and up at Gojo-sensei, who had brought him here. But he met Kugisaki's and my looks with an unconcerned expression and said something to the younger Itadori in his arms.

Then he put him to sleep with unnatural ease. Almost as though making him believe this was somewhere safe.

The only time I'd seen Itadori's younger brother sleep like this had been that first day... when his older brother, Yuji Itadori, was holding him. Of course, I hadn't seen him again afterward, but Yuji had told me that the only place his brother could sleep so peacefully was by his side.

"Don't tell me you're doing it to Itadori's brother too..."

Gojo-sensei gave my murderous glare an unreadable smile.

"Get along with him. I don't want to kill this boy too."

I knew he wasn't a bad person. But Gojo-sensei had let Itadori slip from his grasp so easily, and now he was dragging the dead boy's younger brother into this world... I couldn't confidently call him a "good person."

"You're going to explain, right?"

I glared in agreement with Kugisaki, who seemed to have spoken for me. The adult before us gathered Itadori's brother into his arms and nodded. Sleeping there, his brother curled his back and kept his eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to everything.

"...First, where should I start?"

His voice was unusually low. It reminded me that he wasn't completely unfeeling, and I regained a little composure.

"He's Itadori's brother, right?"

My request for confirmation received an immediate yes.

"Yeah, that's right. This is Haruka Itadori... Yuji's younger twin brother.

"And he possesses a speed Cursed Technique at an awakened level. Why he was suddenly born with a Cursed Technique is a complete mystery."

"That's not what we're asking!"

Kugisaki raised her voice before I could. She stood with a clatter, stomped over to him, and grabbed the front of his clothes.

"I'm asking why you brought Itadori's brother here!"

Despite the obvious difference in their heights, she confronted him without a trace of fear.

"I heard about his brother from Itadori so many times. 'I don't want him coming over to this side.' You knew that too, didn't you? Why couldn't you grant him even that tiny wish?"

Kugisaki's eyes stayed fixed on him, but her anger and grief were clear. Needlessly worried that she might cry, I stood too.

"...I agree. Yuji Itadori, Ryomen Sukuna's vessel, is already dead.

"You shouldn't take anything else from him. Even if he has a Cursed Technique, you could-"

The rest, "like you did for me," was cut off.

"I wanted to do that too." The voice interrupting me belonged to Gojo-sensei himself.

I abruptly lifted my head, which had nearly dropped, and saw his thin lips pressed tightly together. He adjusted Itadori's brother in his arms and gently stroked his forehead.

"This boy entered into a 'brothers' Binding Vow' with Sukuna for Yuji's sake... You could call him a catalyst for Ryomen Sukuna's manifestation."

"A catalyst... for his manifestation?"

"To put it simply, in the higher-ups' words, he's 'a second Sukuna vessel.'"

"What!?"

A second Sukuna vessel? Didn't that make him... a replacement for Itadori?

Though I knew he wasn't the one I should direct it at, I found myself glaring. Yet the man receiving that glare was also clenching his back teeth hard enough for them to grind.

"Once those old fossils learned that his Heavenly Restriction left him with a sleep disorder, low energy, and a naturally frail constitution, they decided he was a 'safe Sukuna vessel.' Easy to kill whenever they wanted."

"...I won't allow that."

My voice came out low, almost a groan.

"Neither will I." An even lower voice fell from the mouth of the man before us, and the air seemed to creak beneath the crushing weight of his cursed energy.

"So I forced them to accept him as my student. There was no other way to protect him."

As he spoke, Gojo-sensei brushed aside the younger Itadori's bangs with his fingers. The exposed features were serene, with something almost sacred about them... exactly like Itadori's face when he died.

Had no one told him Itadori was dead? Looking at his utterly peaceful sleeping face, two wishes fought inside me: that he could remain unaware, and that Itadori's death could be mourned by the younger brother closest to him.

So.

"Also, I've sealed all this boy's memories of Yuji."

The instant I heard those words, vivid colors flashed before my eyes. This was probably what they called blind rage.

Almost without thinking, I pulled Kugisaki away from Gojo-sensei and threw a punch at his face... Naturally, Limitless stopped it, but I didn't care. I kept punching empty air.

Yet the man before me declared without changing his expression:

"Don't get so angry. It was the only thing I could do."

"It was the only thing I could do"...?

Those words only fueled my agitation.

Because I knew. I knew how deeply the Itadori brothers treasured each other. How much they trusted each other. How gentle they were, how kind.

He'd stripped their family bond away, and he called it "the only thing I could do"...?

"You might not understand, Gojo-sensei, but to them, family mattered more than their lives."

I couldn't even get as close as Kugisaki had a moment ago. It frustrated me, but I couldn't spare a thought for something so trivial. I glared up at him.

I didn't know whether the eyes behind his blindfold shone with that same light. But I couldn't back down now.

I had a kind older sister named Tsumiki, who was now asleep because of a curse... But only after that had I truly understood how precious family was. Several times, I'd even thought of giving up my own life to suffer in her place. In my case, there was still hope because Tsumiki was alive. But this boy...

"After letting Itadori, his family, die, you even took his memories of his brother away from him!?"

"..."

"Now his younger brother can't even remember him and cry for him, can't lose himself in their memories. And his older brother can't be remembered by his own brother, can't even have his death mourned!"

I shouted, abandoning even polite speech. Several seconds later, the teacher let out a heavy sigh.

"...Then tell me what I should have done."

As his head dropped heavily, Itadori's younger brother nearly slipped from his arms. He roughly gathered him up again and spoke.

"Let me make this clear first: a few days ago, this boy nearly killed me.

"When Haruka learned Yuji was dead, he lost control. He joined forces with Sukuna and tried to wipe out both me and the Old Men of Jujutsu Society.

"...So if I restore his memories of Yuji, I'll have to kill him. And he'll have to kill people again."

The slender arm hanging limply at his side twitched. Gojo-sensei looked at it and murmured:

"Am I supposed to make a child who said, 'It's enough if I'm the only villain,' do something like that?"

We had no answer, and fell silent.

Because neither choice was right. Both were the worst possible answer.

I bit my lip hard and swallowed all those emotions. Then I took that slender hand, which swayed helplessly, perhaps because he was asleep.

I gripped it tightly, so I wouldn't lose anyone else, so he wouldn't become a villain too.

You're the precious younger brother Itadori left behind... So this time, I'll protect you to the end.

Haruka Itadori's perspective

"I'm Megumi Fushiguro. Sorry I attacked you with Divine Dogs back then."

"I'm Nobara Kugisaki. You can call me Lady Nobara, if you like."

Taking in the boy apologizing for some inexplicable reason and the girl who seemed to have a forceful personality, I fought back my sleepiness and exhaustion and held out my hand.

"Nice to meet you, Fushiguro. Kugisaki.

"I'm Haruka Itadori... zzz."

"Hey, hey, no sleeping!"

In the end, I still lost to sleep and dozed off, and Kugisaki hit me... It hurt.

"Ow, ow... Surely there are other ways to wake someone up.

Haruka Itadori. My last name might get confusing, so use my first name... Huh? Does it not matter either way?"

I'd naturally assumed my last name would be confusing... but I was an only child. Was I still half asleep?

I corrected myself with, "Either Itadori or Haruka is fine," and the two immediately answered, "Haruka." "Haruka, then."

There really are more friendly people in Tokyo, huh?

As I spaced out, thinking that,

"Oh, your seat's behind mine," Fushiguro kindly told me.

At some point, Gojo had also taken his place at the front, standing ostentatiously before the blackboard with chalk in hand and his arms folded. He didn't feel very authoritative... Why was that?

I glanced his way.

"Mr. Go~jo~, taxi, please."

I stretched out both arms in a "pick me up" pose. He tilted his head with a "Hm?" Apparently, he caught my meaning.

"Honestly~. I'm not a taxi, you know?"

Despite saying that, he walked over. Then, just before his arms could scoop me up,

An arm reached out from behind and tugged me back.

Naturally, I couldn't be bothered to do anything as troublesome as keeping my balance, so I followed the pull and flopped backward.

Kugisaki caught me.

"Hey, you. Don't go begging for attention so easily. You'll only make that pervy teacher get full of himself."

Let me say that again. I, a boy, was being supported by Kugisaki, a girl.

"Hey, Nobara!? Isn't that a little harsh?"

Gojo shrieked in response to her choice of words, but she completely ignored him, grabbed my arm, and dragged me along. I was no match for her and could only let her haul me to my seat.

"Um... Being carried around by a girl is kind of embarrassing."

"Then walk on your own two feet."

"Yes, Lady Nobara."

After she planted me in my chair and we exchanged those words, class began.

"Jujutsu"? "Cursed Spirits"? Apparently, I hadn't misheard those words earlier. They came up several times during class and were written in something like a textbook, too.

"Jujutsu," "Cursed Spirits." What dangerous, superstitious, painfully edgy words.

Without listening to the teacher at all, I skimmed the textbook... then slumped onto my desk. Fushiguro had a pretty broad back and was tall, too, so he could probably hide me. Banking on that, I plopped my head onto the desk as sleep threatened to win.

I drifted.

Perhaps because the school building had so much character-meaning it was old-a breeze brushed my skin through gaps around the door and elsewhere. Shivering slightly, I shifted around, searching for a more comfortable place to rest my head.

Once I found the right spot, I settled completely into sleep mode.

As my consciousness gradually faded, I felt the fog rolling in again... And then,

Rattle.

My body swayed.

Rattle, rattle, rattle.

I felt a faint vibration through the floor.

That rocking disturbed my sleep... and I abruptly pushed myself upright.

"Haru~ka?"

Sure enough, Gojo's face was right in front of me, his blindfold filling my vision.

Normally, I might have realized he was angry, but unfortunately, I'd only just woken up. Besides, being nonfunctional for fifteen minutes after waking was my default setting.

With my brain still foggy, I opened my mouth.

"Seismic intensity three?"

My answer was completely off base.

No. It wasn't an earthquake. The ground wasn't shaking; only your desk was. Gojo was simply shaking your desk.

If Fushiguro, our voice of reason, had been there, he probably would have corrected me like that. Unfortunately, Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki had already left to learn close combat from the second-years.

"Pfft...!"

The sole remaining candidate for a sensible comeback was laughing like that, too. My oblivious nonsense had demolished his abs.

"Seismic intensity three, I can't, hahaha! Hey, your teacher's laughing so hard he can barely stand, hahaha!"

With an unprecedented amount of laughter tacked onto his words, he collapsed onto the floor.

I looked down at him through sleepy eyes and yawned.

"Did Kugisaki and Fushiguro evacuate?"

For some reason, Gojo flopped onto the floor again when he heard that.

Apparently, Fushiguro and Kugisaki had gone off for separate training. After another twenty minutes of laughter, my teacher told me that, then carried me to the dorm like a piece of luggage.

The spacious single room I'd been assigned as my own was littered with assorted belongings.

A Jennifer Lawrence poster, a character merchandise mug, a tiger-shaped coin bank.

After tossing me onto the bed, my teacher spoke.

"'Your teacher's going to do some work in your place now, so be good and watch the place, Haruka.' Right?"

Staring up at the ceiling light, I repeated his message.

What work is he doing in my place? What kind of work would a high school student even have?

I grumbled under my breath and closed my eyes.

I was certainly grateful to be left alone to sleep instead of attending class or training. But somehow, it felt like he was making a show of doing me a favor. Was I being too self-conscious?

Once my eyelids lowered, the room, the ceiling light, and the annoying teacher's message all disappeared from view.

And just as I was about to be dragged into the deep swamp of sleep, as usual,

I suddenly found myself thinking about the presence that had appeared in my dreams lately. It was a stranger's silhouette, its face scribbled over with black marker. Its voice sounded distorted, and I could never make it out.

Yet, in those dreams, the hand reaching toward me made me feel both reassured and afraid.

The thought of meeting that baffling, inexplicable presence again soon dulled even my enthusiasm for my beloved sleep. I lifted my lowered eyelids slightly.

I rolled my head to one side, my sleepless brain refusing to work.

My eyes met a tiger's.

Not a real tiger. It was a cheap-looking plastic tiger coin bank.

"...Did I own something like this?"

Sure, my surname contained the character for "tiger," but would I really get a tiger coin bank for such a random reason? I reached for it and gave it a shake. Coins rattled inside.

I saved more than I expected.

I turned it over to inspect the rubber stopper and found something written there in crooked letters. Some parts were blurred or rubbed away, but I could apparently decipher the hiragana.

"Uh~, let's see... 'Savings for my brother'?"

What was this?

After reading the words, I could only tilt my head in confusion. I limply set the bank back down.

I had no idea what I'd been trying to do. I didn't have a brother, and I'd never wanted one.

Or had I made it as a joke in elementary school?

"Nope. No idea."

I lost interest in the mysterious coin bank, too.

But I still didn't want to sleep, so I got out of bed.

Then I naturally started to say, "Yuji, I can get up by myself, you know," only to stop short.

"Seriously, who even is this 'Yuji'?"

I tossed my sun-scented pillow away with a thump and bowed my head.

"I've heard of him, but he was just some 'ordinary' classmate who died somewhere, right?"

I muttered while trying to suppress the inexplicable agitation in my chest. The strange sensation of my brain boiling and my heart being squeezed made me frown.

"I'll get some juice and clear my head."

I opened the coin bank beside me and took out two hundred-yen coins.

Taking only those, I left the room.

I remembered where the vending machine was.

I'd seen a hand-drawn campus map on LINE, sent by someone whose name appeared as "unknown." It even had little notes scattered around it, making it super easy to understand.

Holding my throbbing head, I reached my destination... Huh?

For some reason, Fushiguro and Kugisaki, who were supposed to be training, were facing off against an intimidating man and woman. The atmosphere was tense, too. It looked like a hassle.

My footsteps pattered along, and they probably noticed me.

Four pairs of eyes-eight in total-turned my way.

"Hey, Haruka."

Fushiguro called my name, sounding a little flustered, but I ignored him and stood in front of the vending machine. When I was sleepy, I didn't notice anything around me.

Plastic bottles stood in neat rows under the cheap incandescent light. Tea, water, sports drinks, soda, juice, and also canned coffee and strawberry milk. After scanning the selection, I raised my arm.

I readjusted the two hundred-yen coins I'd been warming in my palm, pinching them between my fingers one at a time. Then I slipped them, one by one, into the narrow coin slot.

Clink.

The sound of a hundred-yen coin dropping.

It was nothing special, just an ordinary action... So why?

It felt like I'd done something terribly wrong. My chest tightened, and painful feelings surged up. Guilt, probably. Suppressing it, I yawned and slipped the other coin into the slot.

Clink.

With a beep, almost all the buttons lit up. The blinking lights urged me to hurry up and press one.

I raised my arm a little higher and reached for that button. I couldn't have explained why, but my choice was already made.

Because I was always beside the guy who chose it.

Because whenever I was sleepy, he'd hand it to me with a smile and say, "You need sugar at times like this."

I pressed the button naturally. An electronic beep sounded.

Less than a second later, something clunked at my feet, and pink packaging appeared in the dispensing tray.

I crouched down, pushed open the plastic flap, and took out what I'd bought. Rounded letters spelling "strawberry milk" danced across the cute pink packaging.

Why? It felt so nostalgic.

I stared down at it for a while.

"Oh my, could you be the vessel's little brother?"

The woman's voice came my way.

But to me, the "something nostalgic" before my eyes mattered more than her voice. So I ignored her.

After a few seconds of silence,

"How awful, ignoring me like that. I'm so hurt.

It must be a disaster for you, too, having an inhuman monster for an older brother. It's been hard, hasn't it?"

"...'Older brother'?"

Something about the word she'd just used suddenly felt wrong.

Fushiguro and Kugisaki sucked in a breath and tried to stop her, but noticing their reaction, the woman grinned maliciously and spoke before they could.

"Oh? Have you forgotten?

I mean your twin brother, 'Yuji Itadori.'"

Click.

The lock on my memories came undone.

"Yuji Itadori."

I knew that name.

"Aren't you glad he's dead?"

Rattle.

The door to my memories opened.

"Yuji Itadori died."

I remembered that.

"Oh, or did you hate him enough to want to forget?"

At those words, something deep inside my consciousness burned through with a snap.

The talisman Satoru Gojo held crumbled to ash.

Ryomen Sukuna, sleeping deep within Haruka Itadori's consciousness, sensed the connection and let out a sinister chuckle.

The strawberry milk slipped from my hand and dropped to the ground.

Ah... Ahh, that was right.

The one who always handed me strawberry milk when I was sleepy, saying, "You need sugar at times like this." The one who made me wait beside the vending machine. The familiar handwriting on that hand-drawn campus map and its notes. The one who actually started saving money for something as stupid as "Savings for my brother." The one who liked Jennifer Lawrence and bought her poster. The one who owned that weird merchandise mug. The one who always carried me to my classroom.

All of it. Every last thing.

"It was 'Yuji'..."

"-!" "!?"

Kugisaki and Fushiguro stared at me in surprise.

But I didn't care about that.

I was crushed by the realization that I'd forgotten my one and only other half.

I could make as many excuses as I wanted. Gojo had used some strange jujutsu on me. I'd been battered and wounded at the time.

...But.

The instant Gojo stuck that thin piece of paper onto me and my memories of Yuji were taken away,

I had resisted. I had fought desperately. No. I absolutely didn't want to forget.

...But in the end, at the very end, I felt a flicker of fear at the hardship of carrying the pain of loss forever. I felt a little hope at the thought of forgetting everything and finding relief.

I couldn't forgive myself for that.

Not only that, I had seen him in my dreams several times, yet never taken his hand...because I was afraid of remembering.

His face had only been blacked out with a black marker. There was no way I wouldn't recognize Yuji. Yet again and again, I was too afraid to take his hand.

He wasn't some "ordinary" classmate who had died somewhere.

"He was...my."

Patter, patter. When I came to my senses, countless pieces of konpeito were falling from my eyes.

The salty, painful konpeito Yuji had taught me about. He had told me konpeito had sharp edges, so it hurt when they fell out of your eyes. What he had taught me back then was true. It hurt so much.

I stared at the konpeito rolling down and forced out the words.

"Yuji Itadori was my...big brother."

The two 100-yen coins I had put into the vending machine were never coming back. Even though they had been part of the money Yuji had saved to "make us brothers."

The pink liquid spreading across the ground couldn't be put back, either. Even though Yuji had said it helped with drowsiness.

Yuji Itadori himself wasn't coming back, either...because some old men I didn't know had killed him while I slept peacefully.

"Oh? So a monster's little brother is a monster too?"

Hearing those words, which didn't even qualify as a joke-

I couldn't listen anymore. I didn't want to be belittled anymore.

"Shut your mouth, will you?...42% release."

I unleashed my power because I didn't want to hear that woman's voice.

The instant she heard my words, her hand reached for the gun tucked against her chest, but she was too slow. Too late.

Because by then, I was already behind her.

"I won't forgive anyone who belittles Yuji. I don't care who they are."

I held a single finger in front of her eyes.

Come to think of it, we'd covered this in class today. Cursed energy was electricity, and cursed techniques were appliances.

What would happen if I released cursed energy in the form of speed at someone else?

"Haze Strike."

My opponent had no time even to realize she'd been hit, and no way to defend herself.

Only when it was over-

"...Urgh!"

A chunk had already been gouged out of the target.

With a chunk gouged out of the middle of her arm, she collapsed with a groan.

Seeing this abnormal sight, the burly man took a fighting stance, but he was still too slow. Everything looked like slow motion.

I pointed my fingertip his way, too.

My lips parted slightly. What I had in my sights was his heart.

"Haze-" "Haruka, stop."

In an instant, everything went black. I realized someone had covered my eyes.

A large, warm hand settled over my eyes, its warmth slowly seeping into me.

That voice was unbearably familiar.

A steady, gentle, reassuring voice. The voice that always called my name.

The voice I hadn't heard these past few days, couldn't hear even in my dreams, and had thought I would never hear again.

A faint breeze brushed gently against my cheek.

"...Huh, ah...wh-why?"

Was this a dream? Had leaving my room alone, coming to the vending machine, losing my temper, and finally meeting him like this all been one whole dream? I'd cry if this ended with it all being a dream.

But, but what if it really was a dream? What if it was a dream that pathetic idiot of a self had imagined, something I could only call a delusion...?

"I told you, it's okay. This is all real, you know?"

With that, the warmth pulled away. I wanted to call out, "Wait," but before I could, someone firmly grabbed my shoulders and turned me around.

"Hm?"

There was Yuji, smiling just as he always did.

Yuji's whole, real face, not blacked out with a marker. For the first time in days, he wore that "What am I going to do with you?" expression.

Just seeing it was enough to push me past my limit.

"Yu-Yuji!...Yuji!!"

I buried my face in his broad, open chest and clung to him, crying.

"Sorry. You must've had more than enough loneliness by now."

"Yeah, of course I have."

The endlessly falling konpeito soaked his chest. Yuji noticed and wiped them away with his fingers.

"Whoa, that's a lot of konpeito. Must hurt, huh?"

"It hurts...it hurts so much, you idiot, Yuji."

The hand that had wiped them away moved naturally to my head, ruffling my hair vigorously as though he were petting a dog.

"I'm really sorry. I thought you'd be fine without me. I kept putting off telling you until now."

What was that supposed to mean? Helpless frustration and regret welled up inside me.

"How could I possibly go on like normal after losing you, my other half?"

"Yeah, you're right. Sorry."

He apologized right away, but he couldn't think hugging me tight and patting my head would let him get away with it. My bones were crying out under his crushing embrace.

But more than that...what mattered most was-

"I don't care about anything else. I'm just so glad you're alive, Yuji."

I pressed my face into the shoulder before me and mumbled. The voice I had meant to hide was terribly weak, on the verge of tears.

But the fear of losing him had seeped into my bones, and it seemed impossible to remove.

My big brother sensed all of it and used his warm hand to press my head deeper into his shoulder.

"Thanks, Haruka. I...thanks to you, I'm really glad I'm alive right now."

Gojo-sensei. I'm seriously mad at you.

But thank you for covering my eyes at the start and keeping me from killing anyone.

"I'm super happy, too."

In front of Yuji Itadori, Haruka Itadori finally smiled.

Ryomen Sukuna's Perspective

"Haah, honestly. What a troublesome little brother."

I sighed and looked down at my lap. There lay the little brother, asleep with his pathetic face hidden.

Unlike that brat of an older brother, this little brother was quite interesting. But fragile, too.

I hadn't expected that, once his memories returned, the spearhead of his anger would turn not only toward others, but toward himself. What an excessively self-punishing fool.

Anger, resentment, hatred. It would have been easier to feed on those negative emotions and transform into a curse, yet this wretch turned them inward and cursed himself. Well, it did allow his cursed energy to grow without limit, which was entertaining in its own right.

"I...hate myself more and more."

I had thought he was sulking, but suddenly he spoke. "Oh?" I tilted my ear toward him.

I had developed a little interest in the root of his self-cursing.

"At crucial moments, I'm too lethargic to do anything.

I was asleep when Grandpa died, and I was asleep when Yuji was struggling on the verge of death. It scares me to think I might lose everything while I'm sleeping like that."

"Is that all?"

"No, this time...before Gojo-sensei sealed my memories, for one instant I thought, I want to forget everything and find relief. If I hadn't, I never would've forgotten Yuji, but I actually had that thought. I hate it. I can't stand that weakness."

"Hmm."

"So I can't 'be kind' at all...and I hate that. But at the same time, I want to rely on other people, to cling to them, and I hate myself for that, too."

I see. So that was the root of it.

He wanted to show kindness to others, yet was "convinced" he could do so only for that brat. Then, despite being unable even to give to others, he was "convinced" he enjoyed their kindness, and sank into self-loathing over that helplessness and contradiction.

How laughable.

Holding back a derisive laugh, I lifted this foolish little brother's head. Uncharacteristic as it was, I stroked it a few times.

"Then I shall be cruel to you."

I wanted to see this stubborn, hopelessly fragile brat cry and shake his head. My teasing began on that whim.

Peering into the copper eyes staring wide up at me, I declared it just once.

"However much you hate yourself, I shall favor you just as much."